The Accidental Billionaires Series

Chapter 3

Book 2 - Dirty Domination

About Dirty Domination

Enter the dark, twisted world of Kenneth Marshall's dirty domination.

She took up my offer to spend one weekend with me and in return, I'll enjoy playing with my new toy.

I'll make her serve my every dirty desire.

Procure to my every need.

I'll own her pleasure and make her come in more ways than her heart desires.

I'll make her fear and submit to me.

She wants to be punished, once I have her to myself she'll realize that she should have been careful about what she wished for...

The bus ride back to her apartment was sheer torture. Having had Kenneth Marshall put his hand on her shoulder and look at her as if he was about to make an actual move! It was way more than she'd ever hoped she'd get out of her first flirtations the day before, or out of coming up to see him a second time.

And then he'd asked her if she'd be returning the next day. But it wasn't really a question in her mind. It was a very clearly an instruction. It was up to her to either obey it or not, and Anita desperately wanted to obey it. He definitely brought that out in her, that obedience, that deference, and drive to serve and please that she had just started to understand when she was with Robert.

At the thought of her old boyfriend she felt a small tingle go down her spine. It wasn't the same thrill as her last trip down memory lane, the day she'd been fired. Marshall certainly reminded her of Robert, but he was so much more. Marshall had the ability to make a casual question sound like an order.

'Well,' Anita thought to herself. 'That man sounds like a pretty spectacular man.'

She looked up and took her bearings. If she stayed on for four more stops, she'd hit the transfer point to take her the rest of the way home. If she got off right away, she'd have to backtrack a few blocks to pick up another bus that would take her to the little district of boutique shops downtown. She pressed the button to signal the driver to let her off at the next stop.

Fifteen minutes later, she was walking in the door of VaVoom! Lingerie. She had a clear picture in her mind of the tie Marshall had been wearing. The one thing she found that matched the color very well was a lovely strapless longline bra with a matching pair of panties that had garter straps sewn into it. While her job at Marshall, working for Woolever, had really done a number on her self-esteem, Anita knew that she still had a nice body. She was twenty-five, and the lack of a car meant that she walked a lot. Her pathetic paycheck kept her from overeating from the stress of her job. If nothing else, her demon of a boss had accidentally kept her looking really good.

And as Anita looked in the mirror, she could not deny that the outfit was perfect for her. Especially the bra - she had a long torso and modest-sized breasts, so the cut of the bra worked very well with what she had. As an added bonus, the color was nice against her skin.

When she added on a pair of stockings, the total bill was well over what she had in her checking account. But she looked so good in the outfit that she couldn't pass it up. It was hard handing over the last credit card she had that wasn't maxed out, but if things were actually going the way she dared hope they might be with Marshall, she really wanted to look her best. She had plenty of good looking dresses, blouses, and skirts in her closet, but nothing really in the sexy underthings department anymore. Robert was the only one she'd ever bought proper lingerie for. The guys since him hadn't really lit her up enough to want to spend money on clothes only they would ever see. They were all perfectly happy to just have her get naked for them, and didn't really put all that much attention into their own appearance anyway. s*x with them was something she did because it felt good, not because it was an experience of intense intimacy and closeness she wanted to share with them.

Which was an integral part of her vow to herself that the next man she kissed would need to be spectacular. She missed having the desire to wear something completely impractical to make her man happy. Anita chided herself for getting ahead of herself. Marshall wasn't her man yet, probably wouldn't ever be. Even if their little dance did end up somewhere more private, she was certainly a dalliance to him at best, a minor conquest. There's no way she would ever be his woman. He was one of the elite, wealthy, handsome, powerful. She was an unemployed analyst who wasn't going to make rent that month, even if she hadn't just dropped a lot of money on some pretty underwear.

Every penny was still worth it, though. Even if nothing ended up happening with Marshall, he had woken something up inside of her. His knowledge and appreciation of her work, his earnest and interested conversation with her up on the rooftop garden he knew she shouldn't have been on, showed her that she was capable of way more than Woolever had ever let her do. Marshall reminded Anita that she was smart and articulate enough to impress somebody that didn't impress easy. Walking into VaVoom! Lingerie with that, picking out some hot little number to hide under her clothes, Anita Rhodes looked into a mirror and saw somebody she hadn't seen in a long time looking back at her. Somebody confident and capable, and hungry.

Anita swore to herself as she walked back out into the bright sun and cold wind that she was going to end up somewhere a lot better than she was. And if she managed to bed Kenneth Marshall on the way there, all the better. If he could back up that voice he'd used on her with skills and talent down below his waist, all the better.

An hour later, Anita arrived at her apartment after a stop by the market to get a little something for dinner and breakfast the next morning. She couldn't afford much, but she was used to shopping that way. Before feeding herself, she ran a hot bath. The other thing she'd picked up at the market were fresh razors. She'd been shaving as little as possible lately, between the cost of the things and the lack of anybody other than herself that would care. She lathered up her legs and carefully shaved them. Her hair was long enough that she had to do it a second time to get the skin nice and smooth. After doing the underarms, she drained the cooling water from the tub so she could fill it again. Water was the one utility that came included in her rent, so hot baths with multiple changes of water were her main luxury.

While she waited for the tub to refill, she took a pair of small scissors to the tangle of hair between her legs. She got it down to a neat trim, then stood up on the rim of the tub so she could take a look at her unclothed body in the mirror. Anita had no idea what Marshall's grooming preferences were. She grabbed another fresh razor, figuring at a minimum, she'd shave to the bikini line. Whether she'd stop there, shave it down even more, or go completely bare, she couldn't decide. She briefly thought about what Robert preferred, then shook her head and forced herself to stop thinking about it. Yes, Marshall affected her the same way Robert had, but he was no Robert. She needed to stop trying to apply how she was with one man to the other. She needed to approach Marshall as himself, not as someone that reminded her of someone else.

She shut off the hot tap and slipped into the tub again. Once she got used to the near-scalding heat, she took the razor and started cleaning up the edges of her pubic mound, all the while thinking about what Marshall made her feel.

Confidence was the first thing that came to her mind. He made her feel confident, so why not leave herself natural? Because when he talked to her in that way that made her drop her eyes to the ground and call him Sir, she felt something different. That feeling was what made her buy lingerie that matched the necktie he was wearing. That feeling made her want to surrender to him, to be vulnerable.

There was nothing that made her feel more vulnerable than being stripped, bare, uncovered. She got up to sit on the side of the tub, and worked her bar of soap up into a good handful of lather, and covered the triangle of hair below her belly completely, and picked up the razor.

With each stroke of it, feeling the blades scrape against her skin, the tiny rasping sound of the individual hairs being cut, she felt the heat of arousal inside of her grow. After each stroke of the razor, she'd run her other hand over the strip she'd just shaved, feeling the impossibly smooth skin beneath her fingertips. She imagined Marshall running his fingers there, kissing her, licking her. She swallowed hard, and touched the razor to her skin again, gently, carefully, so she didn't nick herself.

After the first pass, she cupped her mound, feeling for any spots she'd missed or that needed another pass. It had been a long time since she'd been shaved or waxed clean, and she'd forgotten how it changed the sensation of something touching her there. The hair cushioned sensations to some extent, but had its own unique effects. Removing the hair completely left everything exposed to even the slightest touches or motions. There was nothing subtle at all about how manual inspection she was giving herself felt. It aroused her so much that she had started stroking her labia and clit before she was consciously aware that she'd started m**********g on the side of the tub. She laughed and told herself, "Behave! That orgasm belongs to Mr. Marshall now."

Anita was stunned by the words that had come out of her mouth. She'd never before thought of her pleasure belonging to somebody else. She might have let others possess her body for a while, but her pleasure had always been her possession. Why had she suddenly just given her supply of orgasms to a man she'd spent less than a half hour talking to over the past two days?

"Because they belong to him," she said.

'But why?' she wondered. 'Why are they his property?'

"Because I call him...Sir."

Anita repeated that single word several times. "Sir." She had started capitalizing the 'S' in her head. It was no longer, "Yes, sir," when she thought about obeying his instructions. It was, "Yes, Sir."

"Yes, sir," was something she said to men in positions of authority. "Yes, Sir," meant that she saw Mr. Marshall as more that the man who owned the company she used to work for. It meant she saw him as her Master, and herself as his property. How had he undone her so thoroughly in just two short conversations?

Anita didn't know, but she was dying to find out just how far he could undo her. She was throbbing between her legs, every part of her down there pulsing and vibrating with the desperate need to be touched. It was not hers to touch, though. Not anymore. She lowered herself into the hot water and waited until her body settled so she could go back to making sure her shave was complete without the temptation to go straight to stroking herself to climax.

She barely accomplished it. It took every shred of her self-control to keep herself from taking something for herself that she'd decided belonged to Mr. Marshall. As she dried off and put on her robe so she could make dinner, she knew she was in for a very long and frustrating night.

###

When Anita's alarm went off the next morning, she was not as tired as she thought she might be for how hard of a time she'd had getting to sleep the night before. Sure, she hadn't gotten anywhere near as many hours as she had hoped for, but when it had come, it seemed like she had slept very soundly. In the shower, she thought about playing about with herself a little bit, but reminded herself again that her pleasure was now somebody else's to give or withhold as he saw fit.

Orgasm denial was something Anita had never tried before, and she had to admit, the first little taste she was taking was rather nice. The tension inside of her body was actually energizing, the frustration of not giving into her body's desire for touch made her much more aware of herself in a good way. As if the random brush of air on her neck from the bus's heating vent a few days before that lit up one of her erogenous zones for the first time in a few months, she realized with a little pang of sadness at how depressed she'd been for so long, that her s*x drive had all but evaporated for months.

With Mr. Marshall on her mind, though, every move she made seemed to show her some new spot on her skin that had a direct line to her pleasure centers. The hot shower was bad enough, but when she took the lingerie out of the bag and started to put it on, she started to appreciate it on a whole new level.

Previously, she'd always thought of it as something she wore as a favor for her partner. It was gift wrapping, effort she put in for him, eye candy to make herself more appealing to him. With her body, aroused and knowing relief was not coming any time soon, she discovered something more to it. The longline bra, tight just below the bust and reaching a few inches down her ribs with its thin metal boning gently constricted her. It was not enough to shorten her breath, but every time she inhaled, she felt its embrace around her. The panties were of a much softer fabric than she was used to, and with her privates shaved bare, the sheer fabric was cooling, like a gentle breeze lightly crossing her. She allowed herself a few soft brushes with her hand, and then made herself take a break before putting the stockings on. Good thing, that, because the slink of the fabric up her legs was electrifying. When she attached the garters, every step she took reminded her of their presence, in the light pressure of the straps against her skin.

Anita's intimate knowledge of her undergarments had her so lit up that even putting on a silk blouse and her nicest pencil skirt were erotic in ways they'd never been before. The last thing she did before she left the house was put on lipstick. Her mind went in a very predictable direction as she painted her lips then pursed them so she could inspect her work in the mirror.

She stepped out of her apartment into a cold day, but clear and calm. It seemed the city was smiling on her by not messing up her hair with rain or wind on her way to meet Mr. Marshall. Her bus arrived, and as she stepped on, she thought back to her high school days, early on when her body was changing from a girl's to a woman's. She'd had a favorite seat on the school bus in those days, right over the rear axle. When she was lucky enough to get that seat, she'd put her feet up on the wheel well, and let the vibrations travel up her legs and work a little bit of magic. And the day blessed her again, because that seat was free. Anita sat down and squeezed her legs tightly together, pulling the collar of her coat up and looking out the window, hoping nobody would see the expressions on her face as she relished memories of her younger days when she was still learning the map of the new body she wore. Anita had to take her feet off of the wheel well a few times on the trip, as things got perilously close, but after cooling down, she promptly put them back.

The tease and retreat on a bus full of people, her little secret flirtation with the ultimate pleasure on her way to a meeting with a man she would have never thought she'd have a chance to bed made Anita feel more alive than she had in years. When she got to her stop, she had both weak knees from the little game she'd been playing with herself and a vibrant spring in her step.

As the elevator went up to the top floor, Anita started having doubts and second-guessing herself again. Where she'd walked out of her apartment feeling on top of the world, and ready for anything, as she got closer and closer to the rooftop the nagging doubts at the back of her head kept getting louder. A dark voice inside of her told her she was kidding herself. She was nothing. There was no way a man like Marshall would have anything to do with her. She'd started the week as an overworked, underpaid analyst and was finishing it unemployed. And that ridiculous outfit she had on underneath her clothes? If Marshall ever saw it, he wouldn't be impressed. She didn't have the body to pull it off. Not to worry, though, she thought to herself. He wasn't going to see it anyways, so she'd at least be spared that humiliation.

When the elevator stopped on 46, Anita had to mentally force herself to get out of it. Each step toward the corner stairway was an individual act of will, needing her to call upon her long-dormant sense of hope against fears born of years of abuse and depression. It was the 'ridiculous outfit' that really pushed her forward. Her choice the day before to indulge herself in buying something with no purpose but to highlight - not fake - to enhance her beauty drove her onwards. With every breath, she felt the boning of the longline bra tighten against her ribs, she felt the garters, the very smooth slide where stockinged thighs rubbed together, the rougher and more intimate friction of the bare skin at the top of her legs above the stockings, the much more intimate brush of fabric between her legs. There was something stunningly beautiful beneath Anita's clothing, just like there was still someone strong and very much alive beneath the circumstances she was in.

She opened the stairway door and climbed the steps, loosening her hips as she went to really get a sway going, listening to the steady click of her high heels. Anita opened the door at the top of the stairs, and saw Kenneth Marshall waiting, watching the doorway. It looked as if he was trying to play it cool, but she'd completely busted him keeping his eye on the door, waiting for her to step through.

She tried once more to tell herself she was being stupid and deluded, but stamped it down. The look in Marshall's eyes told her in no uncertain terms that he wanted her as bad as she wanted him.

"Good morning, Mr. Marshall," she said, clicking across the paving stones toward him. She noticed he didn't have cigarette.

"Miss Rhodes," he said, tapping the railing next to him. "It is wonderful to see you this morning."

"You as well," she said. "No smoke today?"

"It's a nasty habit, and it makes my breath stink."

"But what about the rest of your day? I thought it helped you sort that out."

"I am hoping there is no business to tend to today, only pleasure." He gave her an appraising look up and down. "May I?" he asked, moving his hand toward the placket of her coat.

Even though it was what she was so desperately hoping for, she was taken aback by his request to open her coat, so much that all she could do was nod her head. He unbuttoned it and opened it up, to look at the rest of what she was wearing. He rewarded her with a smile and an approving nod. "I've heard of analysts trying to coax some meaning out of their numbers. I think this is the first time I've seen one dressed to seduce some meaning out of them," he said.

"This isn't for the numbers, Mr. Marshall."

"I know, Miss Rhodes. This is for me, isn't it?"

The voice. He'd turned on the voice, and Anita automatically dropped her eyes. "All for you, Sir."

"Good. I didn't clear my calendar for nothing then, did I?"

"No, Sir."

"Do I meet your criteria for a 'spectacular man', Miss Rhodes?"

"May I answer that question with a kiss, Sir?"

"No," Marshall said, firmly, decisively, but not dismissively. Anita knew she'd pushed a bit, and he was reasserting his control over the conversation. "You realize it would be highly improper for us to kiss, Miss Rhodes, since you are my employee. Not to mention the ethical concerns around any other things that a kiss may lead to."

"It would, Sir," Anita said, confused by the turn of the conversation.

"Miss Rhodes, let me be clear. I want you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I suspect you want me as well, but I can't have any intimate relations with an employee. So I have two options for you, if I'm not being too forward. We can admit that our flirtation over the past few days has been fun, and I can send you back down to your desk on 41. Or I can terminate your employment, effective immediately, and we can see where our mutual desires may lead."

"I cannot go back to my desk, Sir."

"Are you saying that you are that firm in your intent that you're willing to give up your job right now, on the spot to satisfy your desires?"

"Not exactly, Sir. It is my most sincere wish to pursue our desires, but going back to my desk is no longer an option."

"Really?" Marshall asked.

Anita glanced up, and saw a curious look on his face. "I came up here on Tuesday morning because I'd just been fired. I didn't want to go home, so I decided to sneak up here instead. Steal one last view before leaving this place behind, I guess." She breathed in, then remembered herself. "Sir."

"Miss Rhodes. You are aware that without any legitimate business in this building you are trespassing. And, you've been lying to me about not working for the company anymore. And here I thought you were just being a bit cheeky by coming up here to the rooftop. You've actually been breaking the law, and deceiving me."

"I understand, Sir." Anita felt her guts tie up in a knot.

Marshall turned away from her, reached into his pocket and took out his cigarette case. "Shouldn't you be on your way, before I call security?" he asked, halfway looking over his shoulder, but not far enough to actually make eye contact.

"Of course, Sir." Anita took a step backwards from him, nodded her head, and turned on her heel. She started quick walking toward the stairwell, head down, fists clenched, hoping she'd be able to hold in the tears that were threatening to burst out of her eyes until she got to a rest room at least.

"Or!" Marshall said, just a little bit louder than he needed to catch her attention. Anita looked around. There was nobody else up on the rooftop to see her or hear the conversation. "You can Submit to a personal punishment from me, in lieu of getting law enforcement involved."

Anita very clearly heard him capitalize 'Submit', just as much as she did to the word, 'Sir'. She felt a fresh rush of arousal between her legs, her mouth watered, and she found herself barely able to breathe for the excitement she felt. "May I ask what kind of punishment you have in mind, Sir?"

"No."

Anita glanced up, and saw the smile on his face, a certain light in his eyes. Every part of her wanted to say yes, but she highly suspected that what was on offer was more than just a little bit off afternoon fun. She'd had a taste of what Submission meant, and the way Marshall was able to put her into that headspace so readily told her he was very well versed in the role of a Dominant. She knew he was going to accept nothing less than full surrender to his will. It was a big step, but with it suddenly right in front of her, she realized she'd been craving it for a very long time. Her hesitation wasn't in admitting to herself that she wanted to do it, but in wondering if she'd be able to. Could she surrender completely, satisfy his urge to control and subsume her?

Deep down, she knew she couldn't. She'd fail him.

Deeper down, Anita decided she'd had enough of being pessimistic. "I Submit, Sir."